


Light Let Through

by earlymorningechoes



Category: Farscape
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:57:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlymorningechoes/pseuds/earlymorningechoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aeryn is confused by this tradition that Crichton seems to enjoy holding onto despite its superfluousness, but she will play along with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Let Through

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whothefrellami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whothefrellami/gifts).



> This is my first Farscape fic, and it doesn't really have a set timeframe, especially because John could celebrate whenever the heck he wanted because the others wouldn't know the difference. I hope you enjoy!

     Aeryn stood in the doorway, head cocked and hair falling loosely over her shoulders. The scene in front of her was simultaneously inviting and disturbing, and she hesitated momentarily before striding inside. A box was open on Crichton’s bed, and she peered inside before stepping next to the large and unnatural object that was currently dominating his quarters.

     “Crichton?” she asked as she moved the box, hearing a tinkling sound emanate from inside. His dark head popped out from the other side of the – was it a _tree_? – and a grin spread across his face from ear to ear.

     “Aeryn!” he cried. “Merry Christmas!” He came over to her and grabbed something out of the box, situating it just so on her head and then turning her towards the mirror. A gaudy red hat perched atop her dark curls, the joyous picture it created clashing beautifully with her bemused face. She let herself be led back over to what really was actually a tree standing in the middle of the room before her thoughts tumbled out of her mouth.

     “Have you gone completely fahrbot?” she burst out, pointing at the tree. “Trees don’t go on ships! And what is this hat? And what is…Christmas?” she asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. Crichton looked crestfallen for a moment, then swept the Sebacean woman into his arms and waltzed her around the small space left by the tree.

     “Earth traditions,” he told her. “Or, at least American. It started with the belief in a baby who was the Son of God…born two thousand years ago, in Bethlehem in Israel. He was supposed to save the world and nowadays his followers celebrate his birthday, and other people celebrate it because it’s customary to give gifts.” The expression on her face never changed as he spoke, but her hold on his arms relaxed and she leaned slightly into his chest, allowing him to lead the dance as his smile softened as well.

     “Two thousand years is not such a very long time,” she told him, not entirely understanding his emphasis on how long ago it had happened. He shook his head.

     “For humans it is,” he said, trying to think back to how much history had happened in the past two thousand years. “They aren’t entirely sure how old the earth is or how old humans are, but a very large portion of our known history and advancement comes from about the last two thousand years. And there was a bit in the middle called the Dark Ages, where all scientific advancement essentially stopped.”

     Pushing herself away from him slightly, Aeryn looked up at John incredulously. “Only two thousand years? When was the first time you were able to achieve space flight? Surely very close to then.”

     John’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head sharply, a surprised laugh escaping before he spoke. “No, we barely achieved flight at all for about 1,900 years of that. We had hot air balloons. The first plane was in 1903…we didn’t get to space for about fifty or sixty years after that.” Pulling her close again, he kissed her forehead softly, eliciting a rare unguarded smile from the former Peacekeeper.

     “Let’s not think about technology,” he mumbled in her ear, “Christmas is a time for friends and family, peace and love. Also gifts and decorating the tree.” With these last words he broke away from her and headed back to the box perched on his bed. Pulling something from inside it, he handed it over to Aeryn, gesturing to the tree. “Hang it!”

     Glancing down at the object held in her hand, Aeryn’s mouth quirked at the corner as she tried not to laugh. “Why did you just hand me one of Rygel’s game pieces?” she asked, heading toward what she now realized was not an actual tree but was rather composed of leftover bits of equipment from around Moya. John looked sheepish, but his happiness was too great to be quelled.

     “Well obviously, Christmas trees aren’t all that common around here, so Pilot told the DRDs to help me,” he told her, attaching what looked like a string of silver grass to his side of the ‘tree’. Aeryn found that the smile spreading across her own face was difficult to remove as she continued to help Crichton attach odds and ends from around the ship to the makeshift tree, allowing him a semblance of an old tradition that could remain alive. They spent the next few arns in rare companionable silence, broken only by small murmurs and surprisingly not interrupted by any of Moya’s other inhabitants. At long last John finally felt satisfied with his attempt at recreating a Christmas tree in the middle of this far-away galaxy, and both he and Aeryn made their way over to meet the others for dinner. The calm kept on for the next few arns, the evening largely unmarred by thoughts of Scorpius, Crais, or anything else lurking in the Uncharted Territories.

\-------------

     The next morning, John crept around the ship slowly with small gifts in hand, attempting to leave one for each of his friends without waking them up. Pilot was of course already awake, and Zhaan stirred as he entered her quarters, but he was able to leave the others without being detected and eventually found himself waiting outside Aeryn’s door, a small package cradled in his hands. Running his hand over the sensor, he stepped through as the doors opened, waiting for her inevitable rise from the covers. Her low question of “Crichton?” was answered only with a soft “shh” as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

     “Merry Christmas,” he whispered as she sat up to meet him. She responded in kind, the words still rolling unnaturally off her tongue but sounding the most beautiful carol in John’s ears. Shoving the package into her hands, he gestured that she should open it. A small glass statue of a bird, wings raised as if to take flight, emerged from the dull wrapping paper. The starlight filtering through the small window in the corner struck the statuette and caused a prism of color to erupt across the room. John reached up and ran his hand through the light as Aeryn turned the statue around slowly, taking it in from every angle.

     “Um…thank you,” she told him, unsure of how to respond to the gift she couldn’t take her eyes off of.

     “No, thank you,” John responded, drawing her towards him in a hug that she accepted without restraint. “For everything.”


End file.
